A tiny tickle of whiskers

As I type this, my hand is brushed by the tiny tickle of whiskers and a cold nose. One of my cats has curled up beside me, as close as he can get, and every now and then, he moves his head to brush up against my hand. I reach out to pet him, to scratch under his chin (he loves that), and he does one of my favorite things in all the world...a silent meow.